Secrets of the Rich & Famous

by Charlotte Phillips - Secrets of the Rich

  They began walking down one of the elegant tree-lined avenues. The air was crisp but there was a hazy glow of winter sunshine tempering it. The trees were completely bare, dusted icy white. Their breath puffed out in soft clouds.

  ‘Well, that just goes to show how little you know me,’ he said. ‘Sometimes a bit of open space is just the thing.’

  ‘This is lovely. I’ve never been before.’

  ‘You should do the sights. You’ve missed out.’

  They began walking again down the avenue of trees. Frost clung to the grass. It felt as if they were walking through a Christmas card.

  ‘Except for the Science Museum,’ she added.

  ‘The Science Museum?’

  ‘School trip.’

  He grinned down at her.

  ‘London can be a fantastic place for kids,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll expect you to relocate back here, then, shall I? In a few years, maybe, when you meet the right film star?’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘I’m being serious.’ She kept her face straight. ‘I’ll probably be a senior editor by then, maybe on one of those glossy celebrity mags.’ She looked up at the sky dreamily. ‘I could do a fantastic photo spread. Alex Hammond and family at their London home.’

  He didn’t smile.

  ‘That’s never going to happen.’

  ‘I’m a gifted journalist, you know! And I’m aiming high. The cheek!’

  He still only cracked a faint ghost of a smile.

  ‘I don’t mean your ambitions. I wouldn’t put it past you to end up editing Vogue. I mean me.’ He paused. ‘I’m not family material.’

  She’d obviously touched a nerve. Her curiosity flared.

  ‘Everyone is family material. Some people just don’t know it yet. You’re not exactly over the hill.’

  ‘Not me.’

  ‘I thought you had a happy family background? You told me you were close to your parents.’

  She deliberately didn’t mention his wife.

  ‘I did. I had a good childhood. Hardly any money, but a happy home. Parents who loved me, not to mention each other. Brother who was also a good friend. I’m a psychologist’s nightmare—there’s nothing they could pin on my upbringing.’

  ‘Don’t you want to replicate that, then?’ She was genuinely puzzled. ‘With your financial position, you could do an even better job than your parents.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I used to think that, too. But look at my life—the public scrutiny, the constant demands. Hell, my own ambition. How does all of that fit with having a family? We were always there for each other. That’s how I was brought up. That’s why they weren’t crazy about my big career ideas. We were encouraged to be happy with what we had. My parents put us and each other first.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t be a father and make films at the level I want to. Not if I don’t want to do one or both of those things substandard.’

  The sound of children playing grew louder as they neared a playground. She dug her hands in her pockets to warm her fingers.

  ‘Coffee?’ he asked as they approached a café. The play area was bathed in hazy sunshine, with tepees and a huge pirate boat climbing frame with kids hanging off it.

  ‘Hot chocolate,’ she countered. ‘I’ll buy.’

  He watched her queue for drinks. The place was full of families enjoying the winter sunshine. A long-discarded desire of his own had resurfaced and he crushed it down again. Family life or work success? That same old dilemma. To have both just wasn’t an option. He knew that. His choice was long since made—Susan’s betrayal had certainly hammered the last nail in the coffin of any desire for a wife and kids—and he never discussed it. So why the hell was he revisiting it now?

  She returned with the drinks and they carried on walking. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were pink from the cold, frost sparkled on her eyelashes, and he fixed his gaze straight ahead to avoid watching her slowly sip the hot chocolate. As if he needed any more attention drawn to that soft pink mouth.

  ‘There are lots of ways to crack a nut, you know,’ she said, wrapping both her hands around her cup. ‘My father wasn’t there at all and I never felt neglected. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.’

  She only vaguely registered two women approaching on the opposite side of the path—until one of them did a sharp double-take as they passed.

  ‘Excuse me?’ the dark-haired woman called out.

  Jen stopped and turned, was aware of Alex doing the same. The woman was staring at Alex intently.

  ‘Alex Hammond? It is you, isn’t it?’ She elbowed her companion. ‘I told you I was right!’

  Jen sensed rather than felt Alex tense next to her and squashed her own irritation at the interruption. She had felt for the first time that she was seeing beyond the exterior he showed everyone else. His being recognised now was the last thing he needed. She acted on impulse.

  ‘Hah! He wishes!’ she said, loudly enough to talk over any admission Alex might be thinking about making. ‘I wish, too, come to that. Wouldn’t mind Alex Hammond’s money.’

  Both women looked uncertainly towards her. Jen crossed her arms and looked appraisingly at Alex. He stared back at her, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Can’t say you’re the first to say it, though,’ she added.

  ‘Really?’ The woman eyed Alex with a frown. ‘It’s a remarkable resemblance.’

  ‘You think so?’ Jen said. ‘That Alex bloke is far better looking, in my opinion. Roland’s eyes are too close together.’ She gave Alex a friendly punch on the arm. He was looking at her as if she were completely insane. ‘No offence, honey.’

  The woman took a couple of steps back, clearly disappointed.

  ‘I was going to get my photo taken with him, post it online. I’m a mad fan. I’ve got loads of press cuttings about him.’

  She saw a look of horror cross Alex’s face, could see the unspoken word in his eyes. Stalker!

  ‘You can have your picture taken with Roland if you like,’ Jen offered. ‘Better be quick, though, we’re pitching for the management contract on the toilet servicing for the park. On our way to do a quick survey.’

  That seemed to do the trick. The women drifted away.

  Alex looked down at her, a grin lifting the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Roland?’ He said. ‘That’s the name that springs to mind when you look at me?’

  ‘I was trying to put you as far away from reality as possible,’ she protested.

  ‘And my eyes are too close together?’

  He fixed them on her and her belly gave an excited little flip in response.

  ‘Nobody’s perfect,’ she said.

  As they began walking again Jen tucked her arm through his. He was sharply aware of it, of the closeness of her. She probably walked arm-in-arm like that with all her friends, but it didn’t stop his body reading more into it. Heat zipped up his spine and simmered on his skin just at the touch of her.

  ‘Maybe we should make a move before she realises that actually your eyes aren’t too close together,’ Jen said, glancing over her shoulder. The women seemed to be lingering, still in sight.

  He felt an unexpected pang of regret at the thought of ending the outing. He hadn’t realised how much he enjoyed her ability to make him laugh, to put a light-hearted spin on every situation. The deep heat in his abdomen warned him that friendship was not the limit of his wanting and he crushed it. He wasn’t about to lose control of his feelings just because she happened to make him smile.

  ‘Let’s find somewhere and grab something to eat. I know just the place,’ he said.

  On their way back, just a few turnings away from the apartment, was a small restaurant, smart but relaxed, with dark wood tables and a select menu. Coloured fairy lights were strung around the walls. The sky had darkened as they left the park and a thin veil of icy rain now coated the windows. Jen didn’t mind. It felt intimate and cosy. They sat at a corner table and ordered steaks with caramelised onions, thin-cut crispy
fries and hot coffee.

  ‘You’re not worried about being mobbed? I’d have thought you’d want to go home, not go to another public place,’ she said as soon as the waiter had brought their food.

  He sliced into his steak.

  ‘I’ve yet to be mobbed in here,’ he said. ‘It’s off the beaten track so it doesn’t get touristy. Plus it’s nearly two o’clock. The lunchtime rush is over.’

  There were only two other tables occupied besides theirs. No one gave them a second glance. She forked up some fries.

  ‘So your father left when you were small?’ he asked.

  Jen felt the age-old defiance kick in. Do not feel sorry for me. ‘Before I was born,’ she corrected, and flashed back an I’m-not-bothered smile.

  ‘That can’t have been easy.’

  She shrugged.

  ‘You’re assuming that he would have been someone worth knowing.’

  ‘You don’t know who he is?’

  ‘Oh, I know,’ she said, attacking her steak and slicing it into minuscule pieces. ‘I just don’t care.’

  He looked questioningly at her and she put her knife and fork down, sat back for a moment, knowing she should just kill the conversation right there and then. She didn’t have to tell him anything about her background. She found she wanted to. Maybe just a little.

  ‘I was the result of a relationship my mother had with him,’ she said. ‘Well, I say relationship. It was a few nights, nothing more. He was her boss. He was married.’

  She looked down at her meal, pushed the steak around a little with her fork, remembering.

  ‘When she found she was expecting me, you can imagine it went down like a rat sandwich.’ She grinned up at him ruefully but he only looked at her. ‘As far as he was concerned he already had a family and a career. He didn’t want to complicate any of that. My mother refused to have a termination so he dealt with it his way. Withdrew from her completely, never acknowledged me, went back to his comfortable life as if I never existed.’

  ‘Your mum didn’t spill the beans at all, then? To his family?’

  She shook her head. ‘She wanted to bring me up herself, without worrying about his intervention, so she never stirred things up.’

  She felt a pang of love as she thought of her mother. How dignified she was. She’d accepted a one-off payment and that was an end to it as far as she was concerned. But Jen didn’t want to go into that with Alex.

  ‘And he’s never tried to get in touch?’

  She took a sip of her coffee and thought about the question for a moment, ran her mind back down the years when she’d struggled with that lack of interest from her father.

  ‘No,’ she said, and considered how she felt about that. ‘It probably bothered me most when I was school age. Only because you don’t want anything then that makes you stand out from the crowd. And I wondered if I might hear from him when I hit eighteen.’

  ‘Bit of a milestone?’

  She smiled bitterly.

  ‘Also the age when you stop needing maintenance payments. I thought he might show his face. But nothing. So when I hit twenty-one I didn’t expect anything, and it turned out I was right.’

  ‘And if he turned up out of the blue now?’

  ‘I couldn’t be less interested.’

  She forked up some steak and onions and carried on eating her meal, not looking at him.

  He watched her. All bravado. No wonder she was so set on proving herself, so desperate for personal success, to show herself as worthwhile. Despite the impression of indifference she gave, it must hurt terribly that her father had never even been intrigued enough about her to get in touch. Not even once.

  ‘Back to the grindstone after this, then?’ he said, groping for matter-of-fact conversation, wanting to lighten things up for her. And to distract himself from the compelling need to ask more, dig deeper behind the façade to find the true Jen Brown.

  She sighed. ‘Yes. Shame, really. I could have spent all day in the park.’

  ‘What’s next up on your mad agenda, then? Now you’re done with sorting out the clothes and hair?’

  ‘Next I put it all into practice. Get myself into the same room as the target. I’m still on a budget, so I’ve thought up some ways of throwing myself into the path of eligible men without having to bankrupt myself on gallery tickets.’

  Her voice became animated as she talked about her project. Alarm bells began ringing. What the hell was she cooking up now?

  ‘What ways are you talking about?’

  ‘There’s a nightclub I thought I might try tonight. Christmas cocktails—that kind of thing. The younger royals hang out there sometimes. It’s at the cutting edge of nightlife for the rich.’

  He felt as if a bucket of sleet had been sloshed over him. The thought of her putting herself out there in some cattle market nightclub by herself, looking the way she did, filled him with cold horror. No man in his right mind would pass up the chance to spend time with her.

  ‘You are not going out on your own to some nightclub,’ he said before he could stop himself. ‘I don’t care if the Queen herself is a patron. You’ll end up dead in a ditch somewhere.’

  ‘There aren’t any ditches that I’m aware of in Chelsea,’ she said. Her excitement seemed to have slipped into obstinacy. ‘And what’s it to you where I go, anyway? I’d have thought you’d be pleased your part of the deal is finished. I’ve had the makeover, you’ve given me free rein to look through your wardrobe, and you’ve given me some pointers. I’m really grateful for all your input but I can manage on my own now. I’ve honed my skills and I’m confident I won’t be throwing myself at any man worth less than a million.’

  Alex was absolutely furious, and not inclined to explore too carefully where that level of feeling was coming from. He struggled to stay calm. He knew her well enough by now to be certain that if he forbade her to do something she’d press ahead with it all the harder. What he needed was something to divert her.

  ‘Actually, I’ve got a better idea,’ he said, thinking on his feet. ‘And it would give you a lot more material for your article than you’d get hanging out at some nightclub.’

  She looked at him suspiciously.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s a Christmas ball tonight—for the Youth in Film charitable trust,’ he said. ‘I’m a patron. It’s at a five-star hotel in Mayfair. There’ll be a champagne reception, dinner, dancing. And an open charity auction. There’ll be a big presence there from the film and media world. How about I get you a ticket there instead? You won’t be able to move without falling over an eligible bachelor.’

  And that way he could keep an eye on her from a distance. Make sure she was safe and not getting herself into any trouble. Surely that was the only reason he wanted her there?

  Her eyes widened. ‘Those events are way above my budget. They don’t let just anyone in. In fact, it’s probably not in keeping with the tone of my article—Miss Ordinary would never be able to afford to go.’

  He rolled his eyes. Not this again.

  ‘We’ve been through all this when I booked you in with Marlon. You need to start seeing past your principles if you’re going to get the most top-quality material you can and write this thing. Who cares if you don’t stick to the letter of the idea as long as you come up with an entertaining article that will blow their socks off? You keep telling me it’s tongue-in-cheek. No Miss High Street from the back of beyond is really going to come to London armed with your article and intending to land a rich bloke. It’s just meant to be entertainment.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ she said. Then she frowned suddenly.

  ‘How come you didn’t mention it before?’ she said. ‘I thought you were meant to be keeping out of the spotlight for a while? I know you’ve made a break for it today, but Kensington Gardens is hardly a paparazzi hangout.’

  ‘I was in two minds about going, because it’s a bit of a sensitive subject in light of the recent press stories about me. Patron of
charity that helps youngsters into film in casting couch scandal—I can see the headlines now. But this way I’m showing I’ve got nothing to hide. Plus the charity relies on my profile, and it’s a great cause. It would have made a massive difference to me when I was starting out if I’d had access to resources like that.’

  She was practically jumping up and down with excitement now.

  ‘Are you sure you can get me in? I can’t believe this! I’ll be able to get loads of background material.’

  She tugged at his arm and leaned forward suddenly, gave him an impulsive quick peck on the cheek. Her skin was against his for a split second, but it was enough to send dizzying sparks sizzling from his skin to his abdomen via his spine. His heart began to race in his chest.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll give you a credit in the article.’

  He leaned back deliberately in his chair, as if physically distancing himself would have the same effect on his mind.

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’ He tried to keep himself on task. ‘And there will be ground rules. I won’t be able to spend the evening with you—you understand that, don’t you? This isn’t a date.’

  She chuffed out laughter and he felt a little piqued. Was it really so outrageous a thought to her?

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ she said. ‘Last thing I need is you hanging around me, cramping my style.’

  They finished their meal and began walking back to the apartment. Jen upped her pace considerably.

  ‘Come on!’ she called over her shoulder.

  ‘What’s the rush?’ The crisp air caught in his throat after the warmth of the restaurant as he stared after her.

  ‘Are you kidding me? It’s going to be the poshest night of my life. I need to get back home and start getting ready.’

  He checked his watch.

  ‘But it’s only mid-afternoon.’

  ‘And your point?’

  ‘The ball doesn’t start until seven thirty. How much time do you need, for Pete’s sake?’

  She walked back to him impatiently, grabbed his hand and began walking backwards, pulling him along.

  ‘You know what your problem is? You’re just such a man. I have to look perfect.’ Her voice rose excitedly. ‘Ooooh, I get to wear my cocktail dress—yippee!’